Adventures in Africa
by Black Hawk
Summary: In the 1890's on the African savanna English tourists find high adventure and mayhem. The second in my history-jumping series, the first having been My Mother's Eyes.
1. Elephant Elizabeth

"I do say, it's rather hot out, isn't it

Title: Adventures in Africa

Author: Duma

Disclaimer: The recognizable ER characters belong to Warner Brothers and their Associates. The rest are mine. I am in no way receiving money from this piece of writing- It's just a great way to get feedback while you're trying to become a good writer! So don't sue me... like everyone else I have nothing important to others materially. Unless you count money as being important, and let's face it.... that's just sad... ;)

Archive: Anywhere as long as you ask ;) And if you want to use any of my characters in your story, just ask, too!

Category: DM/Cast

Spoilers: None

Summary: This is the second story in my Timeline jumping series and is MUCH more lighthearted when compared to _My Mother's Eyes_. It is set on the African savanna in the late 1890's. I hope you like it!

Feedback: Please, oh please! I need anything and everything and will love you dearly if you reply, even if it is only one sentence... or one word! I need all I can get! (as I'm sure you can tell by my writing...)

**Adventures in Africa**

"I do say, it's rather hot out, isn't it?" The young man emerged from his tent in the late morning light of Africa. 

The older woman seated at a rather nice wooden table rolled her eyes. "Rather." She sipped her tea. 

David Malucci ran a hand through his rather wild black hair, slipped into his suspenders, and put on his glasses before taking his seat next to his aunt Elizabeth Greene. 

"Auntie, I think it's rather fair to say that when you invited me on this expedition I never thought we'd be having tea off of a fine wooden table on a hill overlooking the great savanna!" His enthusiasm showed through his animation. 

"Yes, well, one as young as you perhaps doesn't think of such things." 

David was all ready distracted and didn't hear her remark. "Auntie, where's Uncle?" 

"Mark? Oh, he's gone out with one of the guides." 

"He did what?! Why didn't I get to go?!" 

"David Malucci, don't you whine! I have a mind to send you back to England after that little incident yesterday!" 

Dave looked at his hands sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I all ready said that, you know. How was I supposed to know the natives took smiling as an insult?: 

"Well, let's just see that it doesn't happen again. I doubt Mr. Ross will be very happy to receive any more bruises at the hands of those savages." 

"Auntie, they're not savages!" he turned suddenly defensive. 

"Young man, for a boy of nineteen you certainly have a mouth! Look at you- you're an absolute mess!" 

He reached for a teacup and saucer. 

"Oh no you don't! Get yourself cleaned up first!" 

He rose forlornly and trudged over into heir main tent and over to the water basin. He returned fifteen minutes later with new, clean khaki breeches, stockings, a fresh-pressed white, collard shirt underneath his green vest and khaki coat. His hair was slicked and combed nicely. 

Elizabeth smiled at her nephew. He looked to much better in her eyes- at least now she wasn't afraid to be seen with him even if only by a native. 

Dave didn't look very happy and tried to straighten his bow tie. His clothes were so tight, stuffy, and, well, English. However, even dressed in what would be an extremely comical display of clothing to one from the twenty-first century, he still, as always, gave off a certain air of beauty. He adjusted his small glasses and strode toward his aunt with as much poise as he could muster. Ever since he was a child he'd hated to dress in such clothes. He felt they only served to tell the world of his inherited wealth, which they were meant to, but of which he didn't approve. 

Elizabeth rose and adjusted his tie for him. "There," she stepped back, pleased with her work. "The perfect gentleman." 

He tried to smile but it must have come off as being rather sarcastic for his aunt cocked a warning eyebrow at him. 

Seeing his aunt's outfit contrasted to the raw beauty that is Africa was also rather funny. Her floofy, cocked hat and ruffly white dress. He wondered why she'd even come to Africa. She was obviously just barely surviving here without all of the comforts of her western wealth. It must have been Mark's doing. Dave was extremely jealous of her. Here he was, a young man who had dreamed of living out the adventures he had read of in books on this wild continent. He who would have done anything in the past to get to where he now was. And his aunt squandered it all by adjusting her hat on her neatly done head to keep the sun off of her face. 

She had sat back down as she attempted to hide from the life-giving light and now glanced up at his inwardly scowling expression. "David. Stop daydreaming." Her English accent broke the quiet of the birds. 

"I wasn't daydreaming…" was his equally English whine. 

Elizabeth squinted as she scrutinized her nephew as he took his seat beside her for a cup of tea. 

"David, perhaps you should remain in your tent today." 

"Whatever for?!" he looked absolutely shocked. 

She tried to phrase her next words carefully. "You've… been spending too much time in the sun. I'm afraid your complexion has become rather…tan…" she forced out the last word as is it were hard for he to pronounce. 

Dave furrowed his brow. "Meaning?" 

She laughed at what she saw as the obvious answer. "Oh, come now Davey. You don't want to look like the working class, do you? Like you've been laboring out in the fields and sun all day?" The humor crept from her tone. "Honestly David, you are much better than that," she took a slow sip of her tea. 

Dave was hurt and looked pulled back his sleeves to look at his wrists. He didn't look any darker to himself. As he was pondering this small, yet important matter he heard the birds in the nearby trees screech a warning cry that meant that someone was approaching. It was his mustached uncle Mark and one of their African guides. 

"Mark, sweetie!" Elizabeth yelled and waved him over to her, as if he couldn't see her stark white form against the yellow of the grass all ready. Nonetheless he jogged up to her as she rose, took her in his arms and gave her a light, quick kiss, being in public as they were. He paid no attention to Dave, who now sat, tugging at his clothing. 

His love bird aunt and uncle sat cooing to one another as his mind began to wander again. Dave sighed more loudly than he meant to. "May I please be excused?" 

"Why, yes, of course. "Elizabeth looked at his questioningly. She and Mark watched as he meandered down the hill a ways. "Don't wander too far!" Elizabeth called after him. 

Dave slumped down under the shade of an acacia tree and picked a piece of grass to tear apart as he sat in thought. He could see a herd of Thompson's gazelles grazing a ways off and let his imagination take hold as he imagined a cheetah appearing from out of nowhere, a blur of black and yellow, tackling its prey in a fury of speed. 

Elizabeth sighed as she watched her nephew from afar. "I do worry about him." 

"Oh Elizabeth, whatever for?" 

"What are we going to do with him, he's absolutely hopeless." 

"Oh come now, I wouldn't say that. He has his books and… books. I'm sure he can keep himself occupied." 

"We never should have brought him along. He seems terribly unhappy. He belongs in London with libraries and cities and universities." 

Mark nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's all very well and true, but it's not like we had much choice. His mother practically begged us o take him. The poor dear couldn't deal with such a lad for much longer. She needed a break." 

"Well, family is family, and hopeless dreamer or not, he's still our nephew. I intend to teach him to be proper in every sense of the matter. Despite his surname, he's still a Levoy, and will do us proud." Elizabeth began to squint curiously at the gazelles as they began to flee. A moment later Dave leapt up, shouting in excitement. 

"Did you see that?! Did you bloody see it?!" 

Elizabeth and Mark couldn't discern what he was saying and looked worried. 

"David, dear, are you all right?!" 

Dave turned in Elizabeth's direction. "What?!"

"What?!" she shouted back, watching the dust from the animals' sudden movement rise. 

"What?!" Dave yelled back. 

"What?!" 

"What?"

"What?!" Exasperated, Dave jogged over to his aunt and uncle. 

"Dearest, are you all right?" she put a hand on his shoulder while she used her other to hold down the brim of her hat. 

"I'm fine, Auntie, I'm fine! Did you see that?! It was like something out of a book! The cheetah actually caught a fawn! It was magnificent- just like I've imagined it would be!" 

Elizabeth put a hand to her gaping mouth. "Oh my! A fawn?! Oh the poor dear! Why, whatever will its mother do now?!" 

Mark rolled his eyes and Dave had turned his grinning visage to where the heard had been. 

Elizabeth smacked his arm. "And you didn't do anything to stop it! What a wretched, wretched creature! Killing helpless babies! Completely heartless!" 

"Auntie," Dave sounded exasperated. 'If there were no cheetahs the gazelles would overpopulates and they'd eat so much grass that there'd be none left and they'd all slowly starve to death. Besides, that cheetah has to feed her children." 

Elizabeth scowled into the distance. "Let the little rats dies for all I care. They should all be exterminated!" 

"Auntie, if you would just listen you'd understand that-" 

"I all ready understand! They're viscous creatures! They should be killed- all of them! They'd make a rather fine African purse to show off at home…" 

Aunt and nephew were getting red in the face and struggling to keep their arguments proper. Mark immediately recognized where the argument was escalating to and intervened. "Well, whether they're vicious killers or caring mothers I say we meet up with the Ross'. They should be heading out soon." 

Both expressed renewed enthusiasm as they agreed with Mark. 

"If it ain't my favorite couple!" Doug opened his arms and hugged both Mark and Elizabeth in turn. "How are you all faring?"

"Rather well, thank you." Elizabeth smiled at him and his wife, Caroline. The two English couples continued to exchange greetings and short stories while Dave stood off in the distance, kicking at some rocks. Their African guide stood stoic as ever next to the young man. 

"Davey boy! Aren't you coming?!" Doug looked a little bit too happy. 

Dave decided that he had nothing to loose and meandered over to the couple he found as strange as his aunt and uncle. He couldn't help but smile when the beautiful Caroline took his face in her hands and kissed him once on each cheek as a greeting. 

"Read anything interesting lately?" 

Dave visibly brightened. "Yes, I have actually." 

"Oh, do tell me all about it," she took his hand and led him off to two oak chairs under the shade on an acacia tree. The blacks of her travel gown, veil and hat made her seem like a black and white painting. A beautiful black and white painting. They each took a seat while the other three babbled carelessly about the trials and tribulations of vacationing in Africa in the late 1890's. 

"So, tell me, what was this wonderful book about?" 

"Well, it starts off with a great adventure scene. A white man raised by an Indian tribe called the Mohicans is the hero. He and his rifle, Killdeer, can best any enemy! Why, I wish I had a rifle like that! More modern though, of course, for this book was written in the wake of the revolution in the Americas. However, Chingachgook and Uncas are Natty Bumpoo's, the white man's, adopted father and brother…"

His recount of James Fenimore Cooper's _The Last of the Mohicans_ didn't make much sense to Carol in the least bit, yet she smiled and stated the appropriate exclamations when she felt it necessary to show that she followed the tale. In truth, she felt sorry for the young man- being dragged around by his aunt and uncle, nearly constantly criticized about one thing or another, and an obvious misfit dreamer. But she did very much enjoy her time spent with him. He had the most wonderful imagination of anyone she'd ever met and nearly matched her thirst for adventure with his. Although she was nearly twenty years his senior she still remembered vividly feeling young a suppressed and so offered an form of support and strength that she could. 

By the time he was finished with his tale and was cleaning his glasses her butt ached from sitting on such a hard wooden chair for so long. 

"Darling, what were two bookworms discussing now?" Doug gave her his hand as she rose from her seat. 

"Mr. Malucci was just telling me of a very wonderful book he's read titled _The Last of the Mohicans_. I would very much like to read it when we return to England." She smiled to Dave who grinned back his pearly smile. Yet his smile was swept from his face as he heard shouts from an African villager as he ran towards the small camp. The handful of guides conversed with the frantic villager in a tongue that Dave was desperately trying to learn. After a few shouts and wild hand gestures the guides announced to their white companions that a family group of elephants was nearby, and more importantly, that their great chief had returned from trading with another distant village. It was a goal of their expedition to both see the elephant and meet this great chief who was world-renowned. Doug had a servant ready the horses while the women readied their parasols. 

In a good fifteen minutes time they were on their way, the Ross couple in the lead with the guides on foot ahead of them, followed by Mark and Elizabeth, and of course, Dave.

Dave shaded his eyes, searching the surrounding savanna for any signs of elephants. He'd read about them many times before in books. He'd even seen one once in a zoo. They were truly magnificent creatures. 

They came to a groove of intermittent trees where a guide stopped them and pointed into the distance. Dave rode up alongside Mark and Elizabeth. All three men shaded their eyes while the women tilted their hats and squinted into the distance. 

"I don't see anything…." Carol was becoming uncomfortable, dripping with sweat as she was. Damn this humidity and heat. But Africa was worth it, even though it was enough to make a civilized woman of her day miserable. 

"There!" a guide shouted, pointing to a large shape that suddenly moved from the trees. It was a great elephant bull with large ivory tusks and ears pointed forward, assessing the threat of the humans on horseback and foot. He scrutinized the small group for a moment before casually continuing on his walk out of the trees. Soon after a calf appeared, running clumsily. All five let out a gasp of joy and awe. The calf was followed closely by her mother who guided her child with her trunk. A few more cows and adolescent males appeared two more in the company of yearlings. 

"It is the time the elephant like to make," the guide explained. "For this there is a male. Otherwise, she would control the herd," he pointed to an old female with slightly worn tusks who walked on the side of the group, near the male. 

The five tourists watched her for a moment. Dave immediately recognized something about the old matriarch that made him grin in recognition. "Why, she looks just like you Auntie!" Before he realized just exactly what he'd said it was out. Mark gave him a hard whack with his crop as the Ross' looked at him in puzzlement. The blow from Mark had caught the young man completely off guard and was now hurt more with embarrassment at being disciplined in front of guests and not speaking before he spoke, than in physical pain. 

"Well, she does," he let out defensively before he had the chance to stop himself. Lucky for him only Mark heard him and didn't smack him so hard this time. They continued on their way and Mark fell to the back of the line next to Dave and gave him a stern look. Dave never could handle people when they were angry with him. At least not as gracefully as he felt he should be able to. He found himself immediately looking away, back towards the elephants. Mark read this gesture as one of disrespect and tugged on his nephew's sleeve to get him to face him once more. "You and I will discuss this matter further this evening," his voice was firm. Dave looked down in shame. "What do you have to say for yourself?" 

"Yes, Uncle, I'm sorry, Uncle," Dave practically coughed out. 

"Thank you," he patted Dave on the shoulder. "Sorry about that swat. No harm done?" 

"Of course not," he would normally smile but couldn't manage to at the moment. 

"Well then, See you when we reach the village. Stay out of trouble back here," he kicked his horse and trotted up to the pouting Elizabeth, prepared to argue with her that she didn't look like an elephant. 

Dave let his head hang as he fought his facial muscles not to scowl and desperately tried to take his mind off of the painful lump in his throat. Oh, how he wanted to cry. He was so angry, frustrated, and embarrassed. Why'd he say that?! He couldn't help himself. But did Mark really have to strike him in front of everyone like that, as if he were ten years younger. He felt the back of his neck begin to tingle in shame. Natty Bumpoo would never have to deal with this. Everything Natty said was so eloquent and timed. He was never reprimanded in public. He never did anything wrong. Oh, how he wished right now that he were Natty Bumpoo! 

It was about five minutes since the "elephant incident" and Carol stole a glance back at the form of an obviously hurting David. He seemed determined to focus on the passing blades of grass as they walked along. She felt sorry for him. She knew, like everyone, what embarrassment felt like. However, she now looked ahead at the beauty of Africa and couldn't help but smile remembering the old elephant. She covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Dave was right. The elephant did remind her of Elizabeth in a way. Doug glanced over at his wife and also cracked a smile as he realized what she was trying not to laugh about. The two of them eventually gave into a fit of giggles that eventually spread to the English-speaking guides ahead of them. Their rich laughter echoed off of the plains. When Mark and Elizabeth looked up they blamed their laughter on the happening the other day when Dave had smiled and waved at a passing native which had only served to get Doug attacked. 


	2. Johnathan Carter

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, King Mokeleumbembe and his lovely first wife, Saratinqua," the practiced medicine man pulled back the leather flap and a tall, elegantly robed African man and women emerged

A/N: Hey guys! I'm here again with my crazy story… I know, Dave as a nerd! I have to admit that I find the idea rather charming… in this story he's quite the opposite of our 'normal ER Dave,' but hang in there, you'll be rewarded in the end. ;) Love you guys! And I mean it!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, King Mokeleumbembe and his lovely first wife, Saratinqua," the practiced medicine man pulled back the leather flap and a tall, elegantly robed African man and woman emerged. The chief glanced about sternly while the queen merely entwined her arm with his. 

Dave's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. He'd never seen a woman more exotically beautiful. Elizabeth caught Mark staring, also, and elbowed him. 

"I am Chief Mokeleumbembe, however, many of your kind refer to me as Sir Peter Benton, after a ruthless warrior king of the North, I am told." 

"Yes, that would be correct," Mark extended his hand. "Mark Greene. And this is my wife, Elizabeth." 

Elizabeth curtsied and held up her hand, which Sir Peter Benton took in his own and kissed. "My lady, you have the elegance of a queen." Elizabeth smiled humbly and backed back over to Mark. 

"'Ello there, Doug Ross," Doug extended his hand to the king then let his eyes wander over towards the African queen. "And what might your name be again love?" 

"They call me Cleopatra, for my beauty is beyond compare." She spoke the words with such certainty that no one knew what to say, yet Doug was sure that she must have heard Elizabeth cough in incredulity. 

Sir Benton kissed Carol's hand in turn. "A woman of true beauty," he smiled adoringly at her. 

"Yes, she is," Doug entwined his hand in hers to show his obvious possession of the woman. Carol merely pulled away and gave him a playful smack to teach him a lesson.

Dave stepped forward. "I'm David Malucci IV. It's a pleasure to meet a man of your stature, Sir," Dave shook his hand enthusiastically. Benton merely gave him an amused and somewhat puzzled smile in return. 

"Please, come into my home. We will have tea. We will talk," another villager held open the flap once more and the five travelers crossed the threshold into a hot, stuffy, dark hut. Dave couldn't exactly put his finger on the rather unpleasant odor that permeated the room but obliged to sit unnoticed for the next three hours as his elder companions chatted away. 

He did his best not to fidget but after a while it was no longer possible. He would catch Cleo giving him a quizzical stare every once in a while and he would put down whatever sacred object he had decided to finger.

When they finally left the hut to say their good-byes to the chief and his lovely wife the bright sunlight was blinding.

They remounted their horses and set off, this time their destination being their camp for it would be dusk in a few hours' time. 

Dave lazily picked leaves off of passing bushes and tore them up, as he no longer needed to rein his horse. They were heading back home to food, and his steed knew it. It was therefore very well behaved, all intentions on getting home as soon as possible. 

They took a more scenic route home and Dave soon lost himself in his ceaseless imaginings once more. They passed a waterhole rimmed with buffalo. As Dave's eyes danced across the scene he noticed two bulls fighting. He slowed his horse and looked on until the scuffling was over with. Neither bull had been injured, the display was just to test each other's strength. Dave knew this for it was true with all animals, except humans. Nearly 75% or more of the animal "fights" we witness are mock tests of strength, for when you survive by outrunning the enemy any wound could be fatal. Animals know this and only resort to real bodily harm when all else fails, something that the human animal needs to practice. 

Neither Dave nor the rest of the group noticed when they rounded the corner without him. Dave was so focused on the herd before him he hardly noticed that he had completely let go of the reins to allow his horse to eat the grasses underfoot. Suddenly a gunshot rang out; birds from all directions took to the air and Dave's horse reared, throwing him to the ground. Before he had a chance to feel any pain from the fall Dave was all ready on his feet, grabbing the reins and trying to calm his jittery steed. 

He squinted into the distance only to see a man with a rifle swung over his shoulder emerge from the bush after a few loud warning squawks from the surrounding birds. The man approached, not in the least bit perturbed. 

As the man came closer Dave took in his apparel, reveling in his imaginings. By the time this mystery man was within earshot Dave had all ready made up his life of narrow escapes and thrilling adventures. 

"Gi'day," the man stopped a few feet in front of him. "Nice horse you got there."

"It's not actually mine…" Dave was nervously stuttering for words.

"Sure it ain't… What's your name Skinny?" 

"Sk-Skinny! How dare you address David Malucci IV as 'Skinny'!" 

The man laughed. "So you do talk. And you're a Brit. Typical," he spat on the ground and began to waltz away.

"W-wait! Where on earth are you going?! We've only just met!" 

"'Just met'? No we 'aven't. Meetin' someone's when ya shake hands. We 'aven't shook 'ands and I'm not in the mind to do so."

"You're Australian?" 

He spat on the ground again. "What's it to you, mate?"

Dave's face suddenly showed shock. "You're John Carter, aren't you? The famous explorer and game hunter!" 

The man before him suddenly looked nervous and glanced about. "Keep it on the down low, kid, I don't want the whole bloody world to know!" 

"Mr. Carter," Dave snatched up his hand and shook it vigorously. "It's an honor to make you acquaintance, a real honor!" 

"Sure, kid. Whaddid ya say your name was?"

"David Malucci IV."

"Well David Mackacoochie, why don't you take that horse of yours and help me with that meat over there." He jerked his head in the direction of the felled water buffalo. 

Dave swallowed hard. "Meat?"

John laughed. "Yah, you know, what we humans like to eat? Don't look so scared, it's not gonna' hurt you. What are you, a prince or something? You gotta have wealth to make it this far into the bush alive."

"No… I'm just here with my aunt and uncle…" he was still staring into the distance at the freshly killed carcass.

John looked at him for a moment longer then waved a hand in front of his face and whistled. "Yoo hoo. Kid!" Dave snapped back to the older man before him. "You gonna help me or what?"

"Of course… why… I've killed many a buffalo in my day." Dave stood a few inches taller and hoped that John wouldn't get the opportunity to discover that he could barely hold a rifle. 

Carter looked at him doubtfully. "Sure thing kid… c'mon."

Dave pulled his horse along behind them as they headed towards the carcass. 

"Mark? Have you seen David? He appears to have vanished…"

"What was that?"

"I can't see David!" 

"You can't be naked?"

"No! I CAN'T SEE… oh for heaven's sake!" she kicked her horse and trotted up to her husband in the dim light of dusk. 

"What was that about being naked?"

"I said no such thing!"

Mark laughed. "Come on darling, what's troubling you? Don't make that pouting face."

"I'm not pouting!" Elizabeth gave him a warning warrioress glance. "I can't see David, did he ride up ahead?"

"No… I thought he was back with you."

"Well he isn't and I can't seem to find him…"

"Sweetie, where could he have possible gone off to? We're in the middle of the African savanna for heaven's sake!"

Elizabeth was desperately glancing about her. "Mark, he's gone. He's just up an vanished!"

Mark, realizing that she was right and very hungry began to loose his temper. "I swear, that boy… if I was his father I'd-" he raised his crop again but Elizabeth wasn't listening. 

"Mark, do you think he went back to camp?" she was worried now.

"That's the problem, you know. There's absolutely no telling what that boy's to do next! Even if I bloody knew who his father was-"

"Oh shut up! I don't care that he called me an elephant or that he's always reading or that we'll never know who his father was! I care that he's all right! He's our responsibility, Mark! He's all his mother has in the world!" Elizabeth was barely holding back her tears in her sudden bust of fear. 

Mark was reasonably shocked by his wife's sudden turn in emotions. "Why, it's quite all right Lizzie. We'll just send a guide out…"

"No it's not all right! Out there there's lions and hippos and warthogs and cheetahs… and leopards… and hyenas!" she was letting her tears spill over her cheeks now, pushed over the edge as she was. "Can't you not see that?! We're not in England we're in Kenya! You can't just up and take a walk after night fall!" 

"Lizzie dearest, clam down," the Ross' were glancing back, trying to figure out what was the matter. "It'll all be well. We'll find him. He probably just stopped to look at flowering shrub or… something else that he somehow found interesting…"

Elizabeth began to wipe her tears and nodded in agreement. "You're right, there's no use in panicking yet. We'll just… go back to camp and hope that he turns up. In the meantime send some of our guides out to look for him."

Reaching a consensus the rest of the small party continued with the short leg of their journey home. 


	3. Cannibals And Whiskey

A/N: Hey 'Thena! I DO love you dearly for your feedback, sweetie! As I do to The She Devil, FAT CAT, Malucciecca, Ishmaela, Doctah Milly, Cien, Becky, and everyone else who reviews my fics! Sorry it's taken me so long! Enjoy!  
  
"Aw! Bloody bush."  
  
"Mr. Malucci. if you don't mind?"  
  
"Oh. Right. sorry."  
  
John sighed. This was going to be along 'escort' back to camp.  
  
"Will those natives really eat the meat we gave them? I mean. it looked rather questionable."  
  
"That's because you dropped it three times on the way there and mutilated it to begin with."  
  
"I'm sorry but I guess I don't understand. Why did you kill that buffalo when you didn't even intend to eat it?"  
  
"It's called a sport, kid, and I was going to eat it. hell, we'd both be eating it right now if you weren't so damn slow!"  
  
Dave glared at the famous hunter standing in front of him. "If I weren't so slow?! I've matched every one of your steps since I met you!"  
  
John looked away and into the distance, standing next to a large acacia tree. "Yeah, sorry mate. I'm just a little tense. I need a drink, that's all." He pulled out his canteen and took a swig. "Ah," he wiped his mouth with satisfaction and extended the canteen to Dave.  
  
Being thirsty Dave took a deep swallow. Yet instead of being met with the sweet taste of water he felt the sharp bitter taste of alcohol. "Gack!" he spat on the ground.  
  
John chuckled. "Relax kid, it ain't gonna' kill ya."  
  
Dave struggled to breathe. "What was that?! It was awful!"  
  
"Awful? Awful?! That stuff happens to be heaven on earth!"  
  
"I sure hope that heaven isn't really like that."  
  
"Why? You plan on going there?"  
  
"Well, I suppose so. I've tried all of my life to be a good person. although my aunt and uncle don't always think so."  
  
"You're aunt and uncle? Where are your parents?"  
  
'My mother's back home in England, and, I. never knew who my father was." He nearly muttered the last part.  
  
John didn't know what to say so he changed the subject. "So, what are they like?"  
  
Dave was clearly lost in thought. "Who?" he asked meekly.  
  
"Your aunt and uncle? You know, the rich ones? They've go to be if they're vacationing here of all places."  
  
"Yes. they inherited their money from my uncle's grandfather. He was an explorer, you know. Although I don't think he ever did anything that great. My uncle's a journalist and he's been all over the world."  
  
John smiled as he saw Dave's interest peak. "Really? Has he been to Australia?"  
  
"Well. I don't think that he's ever been to your country, but I'd love to."  
  
"Ain't much but dirt and desert. where I'm from, at least."  
  
"You're from the bush?"  
  
"Yeah, you could say that."  
  
Dave broke a stick off of a nearby bush. "What did you hunt in Australia?"  
  
John's face was impassive. "Aborigines."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You jus' go out there an pop 'em off. Bang! Make nice throw rugs they do."  
  
Dave was about to lecture him on his perverse means of living when he notice the slight smile tugging at the edges of John's mouth. Dave slowly smiled, beginning to understand John's sense of humor. The two men laughed.  
  
"So, which way's camp?"  
  
"Uh, well, it's." Dave spun around, searching the distance. "That way," he pointed to the East.  
  
"I hate to tell you this, but that's where we came from."  
  
"Oh, then it's. it's." he turned around some more, trying to orient himself.  
  
"Look, kid, if you can't tell me which way your camp is then I suggest we build a fire."  
  
"As some sort of signal?"  
  
"As some sort of protection. We'll sleep out here."  
  
"Out. out here?"  
  
"Yeah, unless you've got a better idea. No worries, the big cats don't like fire."  
  
"But. what if. I mean, I heard about those man-eating lions in Tsavo."  
  
"Kid, you're with a world renowned game hunter, I think you'll be safe."  
  
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why couldn't he face danger with courage like Natty Bumpoo?! "Don't worry. I've slept out many times before."  
  
John looked incredulous. "You? In the African bush?"  
  
Dave drew himself up. "Yes, of course."  
  
John laughed, "In a tent at your camp."  
  
Dave was about to say something impressive when he watched John's playful expression turn to one of alarm. John motioned for him to be quiet.  
  
A small troop of natives was making its way toward them in the fading light.  
  
Dave stepped behind the older man as he raised his rifle to his chest.  
  
The native stopped a few paces away and uttered a few words in their native language.  
  
"What are they saying?" Dave whispered.  
  
"Stay back," John pushed Dave against the acacia.  
  
This movement suddenly alarmed the natives and they leveled their spears, moving forward to press them against John's clothing. The native that Dave deduced was the leader spoke harshly to John.  
  
"I think he wants you to put down your weapon," he whispered.  
  
"Like hell I will," he spat through grit teeth, despite the spearheads pressed against him.  
  
Dave looked at the natives. "I don't think we have much of a choice."  
  
John slowly lowered his rifle. The natives roughly grabbed John and took his rifle while encircling Dave and urging the two men to walk with them.  
  
  
  
After ten minutes of walking in near silence David Malucci IV was struck with an epiphany. "John, they're going to kill us!" Dave spoke lowly.  
  
"You? They're not going to kill you, it's me they're after."  
  
"John, I've read about these men in Robinson Crusoe. They're cannibals! They're going to roast us on a spitfire while the women and children of their village dance and celebrate!"  
  
John looked at their captors. They seemed like most of the local natives, but then again, what exactly did a cannibal look like?  
  
To his right Dave was making his own observations. The man closest to him was strong. He had large white teeth, much straighter than those of many men in England. Was that because he'd grown up in human flesh? Dave let his eyes wander to the man's necklace. Now, any same human being would be able to easily tell that the teeth strung around the native's neck were too big to belong to a man. Yet Dave had seen many large men in his life, most of all here in Africa. In his adventurous, imagining mind he had no doubt that those teeth were human teeth.  
  
Half of his mind was racing with ideas of escape while the other half was busy formulating an eloquent speech which he would dictate before he was sacrificed by the cannibals. Yet there it was. this small part of his mind that kept nagging him. he wanted to know, what would he taste like?  
  
  
  
TBC.  
  
(If you like this fic or My Mother's Eyes, be sure to check out my new one, Blossoms. Thanks, guys! ;) ) 


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